Stuck in Square One
by hikaribenitsuki
Summary: "I'm not a Yakuza, and I don't work for Aizen's little Espada gang either. I'm just a transporter. I don't give a flying fuck about territory. Don't confuse me with the likes of you." Renji is an illegal trade transporter who is approached one night by a mysterious man who looks too strange to be the Yakuza he's claiming to be. Still, he accepts the offer. ByaRen, Mature
1. Chapter 1

**UPDATED: 10/30/14**

**Info: **There will only be a few chapters in this story, and it will be finished pretty quickly if I have my way with it. I have based this story heavily – like, completely, you guys – off the manga NightS by Yoneda Kou. She is a fantastic mangaka, my favorite actually – I highly encourage anyone reading this to look up her work. 'Don't Say Gold' and 'Saezuru Tori wa Habatakanai' are two very fantastic mangas she's come out with. Her stories are very realistic and Saezuru Tori wa Habatakanai is especially kinky, if you're into that.

**References:**

_Sabitsura _– The 64rd District of Rukongai

_Nichibotsu_ – 'Sunset'. I would place it as the 11th District

_Kagema _ - Male prostitute

_Maru Zabi_ – Yes, I used Renji's Zanpaktou's name for his fake one.

_Zakura Sen_ – Yes, I kind of used Byakuya's Zanpaktou's name for his fake one.

_Inuzuri_ – The 78th District of Rukongai

_Gotei 13 – _The Government of Rukongai

"_8__th__" – _The 8th Division of Gotei 13; deals with drug enforcement and the like.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter One<strong>

"Sabitsura Group, eh? Now where did you hear about lil' ol' me from?"

Abarai Renji, self-proclaimed illegal transporter extraordinaire – _not really, you dumbass_ – took a long drag of his cigarette, contemplating the two men in front of him. They'd arrived just after Renji had finished dispatching the last shipment of cocaine to the Nichibotsu District, appearing too suddenly for his liking – _hell, for anyone's liking_ – out of the misty fog that plagued the harbor's port. He hadn't jumped when he'd caught sight of them– the tall one leading the way looked too thin to do much, and the stout dog following him was…blatantly too nervous to protect even himself if something went awry. _And when they pull out their guns, well…I'll kick their crotches in and high-tail it the fuck outta' here_.

Either way, he doubted they'd kill him now. They needed him, didn't they?

"From Yumichika of the Zaraki Group," the tall one answered. Up close he looked…strange. _Yeah, that's probably the best way to put it._ His hair was unusually long for that of a man, even though Renji did secretly agree that it framed his face rather attractively (also, his own hair was longer). The man's jaw was narrow like a woman's, and he hadn't a single blemish on his remarkably pale completion. The only thing outwardly 'manly' about him was his eyes, which were sharp and dark and – _regarding me like I'm some stupid kid. _

And they were – Renji was sure of it. The man gazed at him with an expression that oozed easy confidence and natural superiority; he looked down upon Renji and the smirk twisting his lips made it clear what he was thinking: '_You are but a child in my eyes_, _a child who knows nothing of the world and perhaps never will. You, bathing in your kiddie-pool of blissful ignorance, amuse me.'_

It made Renji's gut twist.

"We were acquainted before his prostitution ring got busted," the man continued, "He told me you guys were close."

Renji scowled. _Of course Yumichika would twist it into something like that. _"Not really," he replied. "Damn blabbermouth." _Who else did he tell about me? I swear if he told someone from the 8__th__, I'll chop his dick off and force feed it to 'im. _

"I agree – he was the quite talkative one." Suddenly the man was closer – too close – and Renji would've stepped back if he had had the option to. Alas, Renji seriously doubted the building he was resting against would move just to appease him or his personal comfort.

"So how about it – do you accept our offer?"

The billowing smoke from Renji's cigarette was forming a thick cloud in their proximity and it stung his eyes but the man – the man appeared wholly unbothered by it. "I heard you could transport anything," he said, "whether it drugs or guns or even…" – and his eyes hardened then, boring heatedly into Renji's – "…dead bodies."

_Oh wow_.

Renji bent with laughter, arms tightly hugging his chest as he shook all over. "Who told you that? And how'd they get you to believe it?" he gasped.

To his credit, the man appeared entirely unfazed by his outburst. _Oh come on!, _he wanted to groan. _I know you're embarrassed, even if that poker face of yours is hidin' it_. "People'll stop taking you seriously if you go around saying stuff like that, y'know."

"That's too bad," the man coolly retorted_. _"I already told the higher-ups that there was a good transporter. Really, it's a shame..."

_Yeah, I'm a shit transporter because I don't fuck with rotting corpses. _Renji snorted._ Grade-A Yakuza – _the man brushed a long lock of silky black hair behind his ear, and Renji questioned his wording – _logic. _

"It's the Espada Group, right?"

Renji's eyes narrowed. _Espada?_

The man had stepped back from Renji – _thanks for giving me my personal space back, douche _– and was packing a carton of cigarettes in his hand. "It's them smuggling all the drugs and guns to the Inuzuri Group. You work for them a lot, don't you?" There was no question in his tone.

Renji's furrowed his brow. _Did he investigate me? _"What's it to you?"

A puff of smoke flew into the air when the man chuckled. "Don't worry, we're not going to try and invade their territory or anything like that. We'd just like to be…" – Renji's stomach fluttered when he caught the dangerous glint twinkling in his eyes – "…associated with you, I should say, and ask for your assistance."

_There's something off about all this. _

"My help," Renji repeated slowly. _There's something off here, something I just can't – it's him, isn't it? It's him. He has the air of a Yakuza and he acts like one too, but I – I – _

_I've never seen a Yakuza with a face like his before. _

Renji frowned.

_Is this a setup? _

"Usable harbors and useful men are hard to come by," the man suddenly announced, tearing Renji from his thoughts. He was sporting a viciously lust smirk and – _oh god _– Renji felt his cock stir in his jeans. "Don't you think that's a bit unfair, Transporter Maru Zabi-kun?"

_He totally investigated me. _

Renji wanted to believe that what happened next completely took the man off guard, but given his excellent poker face, Renji doubted he'd ever know for sure. The front of the man's shirt sat balled up in Renji's fist, and their foreheads knocked together when Renji dragged him closer.

"Listen here," he snarled, giving off the most menacing, unfaltering stare his eyes could muster. "I just gotta' know one thing."

The man's lackey made a frightened noise. "Hey!"

"Stay back," the leader calmly ordered. He did not shy away from Renji or his gaze.

_You think you're all high and mighty._

"But Sir –"

_Don't you realize?_

"Be quiet. What is it you want to know?"

_I can see right through you. _

Renji clenched him tighter. "Are you really a Yakuza?"

_I dare you to lie to me. _

"Yes." His reply was correct in all the right ways, and Renji hated it.

He shook his head. _Look at me. Look at me and say it again – tell me you are who you say you are._ "I don't believe you." He whispered now, so only the two of them could hear, "You're telling me you're a Yakuza from the 64th, but I don't think that's quite right. To be honest, I don't think you're from the Sabitsura Group at all – no, I think you're from the 8th Division of Gotei 13. I think you're a fucking cop trying to bust me. So, _Yakuza-sama_, tell me again – who _are_ you?"

They watched each other, unmoving, for many long, tense moments. Renji searched the man's empty eyes, desperate to find anything – _anything_ – in their dark depths that would give him the answer he was looking for. Time passed and cigarettes smoked and it soon became clear – _crystal _fuckin'_ clear _– that they would reveal nothing.

He shoved him away.

"Have you got your answer?"

_Are you talking in that conceited voice to piss me off, or is it just how you naturally sound? I want to clock you for it either way. _

"Just shut fuck up." Renji crouched, eyes burning from the smoke that'd accumulated around them. "Let me just say this," he ground out, squeezing them shut and massaging the sockets, "I'm not a Yakuza – which we're just going to assume you are for right now – and I sure as fuck don't work for Aizen's little Espada gang either. I'm just a transporter. You hear that? All I am is a transporter, and that's all I aspire to be. I don't give a flying fuck about territory or who owns who and who has what. If you want to do business with me, don't _ever_ confuse me with the likes of _you_."

There was a pause. Renji cracked his eyes open.

"Hahahaha!"

_Holy-fucking-shit I'm going to kill this guy. _

"That's just absurd."

Renji's nostrils flared furiously.

"If you don't want to be grouped with people like us, Transporter-kun, you should become a delivery man or something." He was petting Renji's head now, gazing down at him amusedly. "Your job description wouldn't even change that much." Renji tried to jerk away, but the man's grip tightened and he was held firmly in place. The man leaned close, only a breath's width away – _fuck, he's hot_– and with lips almost touching Renji's own, the man whispered: "But as long as you're in this business, we'reyour associates and business partners. You're part of our great big Family, Zabi-kun. That makes you one of us." He kissed Renji shortly on the lips. "See?"

Renji spat in his face.

The man only laughed. "Get me a handkerchief," he ordered to his subordinate as he stood, "It seems Transporter-kun still hasn't been properly house trained yet."

_I hate you. _"Fuck you, bastard."

A couple minutes passed and everyone was clean-faced and on their feet again. Renji raked a hand down his hair, sighing as he looked into the night sky. It was dark and moonless and no clouds swept through; if he squinted hard enough, he could see two or three lone stars twinkling softly. Salty harbor wind assaulted his nose, which was already pink and raw with the cold.

_I still don't trust him_, he thought sourly. _There's something I know he's not telling me…then again, there's a lot of shit I don't get told. 'Kind of part of the business…_

"What's your name?" he asked, still gazing into the sky.

"Zakura."

Renji sniffed. _C'mon, you bastard kagema. _"Zakura what?"

"Is it necessary?"

Renji flicked his eyes to him. "You investigated me – isn't it only fair that I know about you? It's not like I'm asking for your social security number. I just want to know your name."

"The world isn't fair – especially not this side of it, Transporter-kun. It's Zakura Sen, Deputy Underboss of the Sabitsura Group."

_Deputy Underboss, eh? _"So it's Sen, then?"

_Should I do it?_ _Is it worth it? _

_Well, he has a pretty face._

_I do like pretty faces…_

"Alright…I'll do business with you." Renji rejoiced at the short look of surprise that flashed across Sen's face. He grinned. "Depends on what I get in return, though."

* * *

><p>Kuchiki Byakuya silently watched the city streets blur into one homogenous glob of color, eager – thought he'd never say it aloud – to arrive home. <em>I'll write my report for the evening and sleep<em>. A headache ravaged his left temple, throbbing achingly. _I'll write it and sleep. Just the report and nothing else_, he swore to himself.

"Is it really okay?"

"What?"

"That he wants you to come alone when you meet."

"It's not a problem. I can meet him alone."

"Yeah, I know. It's just…"

Byakuya nodded in agreement. "He's suspicious."

"Yeah."

"It'll be fine."

"I believe you, boss."

Byakuya's headache lessened with the silence that continued.


	2. Chapter 2

**UPDATED: 10/30/14**

**References:**

_3__rd__ Division _– Intelligence Division

_6__th__ Division – _Internal Affairs Division

_8__th__ Division – _Drug Enforcement Division (Probably…they might have other things going on, I'm not entirely sure yet.)

_Gōrudentsurī _– 'Golden Tree', I would place as 45th District

_Kuroyanagi – _'Black Willow', I would place as 37th District

_Jōshōhana – _'Rising Flower', I would place as 32nd District

_Ikura _–__ Salmon roe (fish eggs)

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Two<strong>

Renji awoke groggily, tightening the warm blankets around his shoulders. A sharp sliver of sunlight bent wide over his bedroom, bringing unwelcomed brightness to the otherwise shady room. He groaned and rolled onto his side, away from the window and closer to the sweet, sleep-inducing darkness. His legs curled against his chest.

_Smells like Kira…he already took off, probably._

"Morning."

_Oh. _Renji hazily opened his eyes. _  
><em>

Kira Izuru sat on the edge of Renji's bed, sluggishly buttoning up his shirt. His blond mop of hair was still ruffled from the night and he was naked from the waist down, and Renji knew he'd just woken up. _Last night was good_, Renji reminisced. _He was fuckin' _wild, _Izuru was – haven't seen him like that in a while. _

"You okay?" – Renji's cleared the phlegm from his throat – "You were pretty into it last night." _Not that I'm complaining._

Izuru stood and bent to grab his underwear – Renji wanted to wolf whistle – off the floor, slipping them on without a word. _His ass is like a piece of artwork, man. _He made his way to the kitchen, turning on the stove's burner where the kettle rested. "Ichimaru-taichou is shoving all his paperwork on me again," he finally sighed, "And the 8th Division just had an epic failure of a drug bust, and everyone's on _our_ asses because they think the intelligence we sent over was corrupted. Now the 6th Division is getting into everything and it's just a mess, Renji, it's a fucking mess." He started shuffling through the cabinets.

_6__th__ Division? _Renji sat up, still keeping the comforter close. "If I still have Oolong, I want that. Why's Internal Affairs getting involved in all this?"

"Probably because a stupid amount of officers from all across the divisions are getting caught with illegal substances. They're positive that there're people on the inside bringing them in - which is like yeah, no shit? They're raising hell over the 8th Division's fuckup."

"Ah. Well, you should tell your captain to eat a dick. He might even eat yours if you say it firm enough."

Izuru snorted. "Ichimaru Gin is not the kind of man open to submitting. Even if he bottomed, he'd still be in control." He was approaching now, two steaming mugs of tea in tow.

"You make it sound as if you know from experience," Renji guffawed.

The bed dipped where Izuru sat. "Maybe I do."

Renji cautiously took the cup outstretched to him, sniffing at the wafting vapor. _Mmm, yummy. _"You're telling me you let that snake fuck you?"

"Of course not, Renji," Izuru griped, "Fraternizing with my boss – what do you take me for?"

"A masochist who works under a sadistic creep? It's the perfect setup." Renji took a small sip – _perfect_. Not like it wouldn't be – it was one of Izuru's many talents, along with sucking dick, moaning like a whore when a whip cut his back flesh, and being an unfalteringly loyal friend.

Izuru glared at him. "I'm going to punch you in the face."

_Ding!_

Renji set down his tea and grabbed the phone off his nightstand.

'_**Tonight'**_, the message read, followed by an address. Renji knew the area – lots of vacant buildings, away from the commotion of the city, close to the harbor. He nodded in approval. '_**Bring food'**_, he wrote back, '_**and don't bring any of your dogs with you.'**_

When he looked up, Izuru had dressed. _That was fast._ He had his grey messenger bag slung over his shoulder and was picking at his hair, attempting – _quite successfully, the fucker…I wish my hair was that easy to tame_ – to style it into submission. "I'm taking off," he said, not bothering to look back. "Thanks for the company. I won't be down this side of Rukongai again for another couple of weeks, but I'll take you out for drinks sometime." He downed the last bit of his tea and was out the door.

"Bye," Renji said, but the door had already closed. He looked down at his tea. _Why are you even friends with me anymore, Izuru? You know what I do for a living. It goes against everything you stand for. __  
><em>

He sighed.

_Whatever. _

* * *

><p>"Let me say this straight up: I'm not bringing you drugs or guns from the Espada." Renji was sitting on a palette box he'd dragged over to an open window that gave him a unobstructed view of the street below. He detested the cutting wind that occasionally rushed in – <em>I fucking hate winter <em>– but if there was going to be some lame-ass wandering in and disrupting their business, he wanted to know about it before it was too late.

"I didn't exactly expect you too." Sen was sitting across from him, one leg crossed over the other and a cigarette sandwiched between his lips. He looked at ease – just as a Yakuza should – and although Renji still loathed the blatant haughtiness and higher-than-thou attitude he displayed, it did garner confidence for the decision he'd made following their their first meeting: Sen, for all he looked like it, was the man he was claiming himself to be. _He'd have to be a really good fuckin' actor to pull it off otherwise_.

Renji's eyebrows shot up. "Eh? I thought that's what you wanted from me. What am I transporting, then?" He reached into the grocery bag between them, pulling out a perfectly shaped triangular package of pre-made onigiri. _Ooh, Ikura. Good job, old man. _"And for the record" – he tore the plastic apart– "that dead body thing is really just a rumor."

Sen leaned forward and ground the cherry of his cigarette into the floor. He pulled out another. "That really is unfortunate – I was going to ask you to do that sooner or later. Have you got a light?"

"That's why I don't deal with Yakuza." Renji tossed him his lighter. _You have a pretty face, though, so I'll do business with you._

_Click!_ Sen puffed his cigarette, and it was silent for a moment. Then: "We'll need to make several deliveries of ecstasy to Gōrudentsurī, Kuroyanagi, and Jōshōhana." He threw his arms out then, throwing them high into the air and arching his back as he preformed an elongated, catlike stretch. "Meth, too." His neck crunched when he swiveled it left and right.

"Ecstasy? That doesn't come through here at all. Not enough demand for it yet."

"It's becoming more and more popular, especially in Jōshōhana," Sen yawned.

"Course it is," Renji snorted. He'd been to Jōshōhana many times when he was younger. The vibrant district thrived on drugs, clubs, stupid teenagers, and irresponsible tourists, and he'd been a mix of the latter eager to have a taste of the former when he'd first came. _The moment I stepped foot in the place, they dragged me into their depths…_ Hot, sweaty night clubs, easily attainable, _cheap _drugs, sex…what wasn't to like about the place? It was like being lost in heaven.

_Lost…in heaven…_

Renji grimaced.

"It's going to Hueco Mundo first for processing," Sen off-handedly added.

_Ah. _

"That's why you need me."

Sen gave him a smirk that snarked, _'Correct, Transporter-kun! I'm so proud of you for figuring it out!'_ "Yes."

_Forget it, _Renji sighed. He kicked his legs out, twisting his head to look out the window. The streets were just as barren as ever. _This'll be a pain in the ass_, his head grouched._ The pay's good though, really good. The only thing is…_

"If it's overseas, I'm not working alone."

"Oh?"

Renji turned to glare at him. "You ever heard of 'controlled delivery'?"

Sen blew a thick smoke ring into the air, watching it float away. "Nope."

Renji sighed again, sitting up. He snatched the cigarette from Sen's mouth. "It's a common setup for the 8th. Even when they know someone's got drugs on 'im, they let him pass through customs. Then they let him roam free until he gets to the end customer and that's when they make their move. And for that reason" – Renji paused and took a drag from the cigarette – "the drugs'll be transported by a chain of guys who don't know the end customer's identity. If I do this alone, the chance of getting caught is huge – so I won't." Renji offered the cigarette back, but Sen waved it off.

"How are you going to get the other men?"

_A fat stack of cash, obviously_. "Money makes anything possible, don' it?"

"Can you trust them?"

"Yes."

Sen took that, and Renji was relieved.

"Won't smuggling the drugs be difficult?" Sen continued, "If you get caught on the way, everything's screwed."

Renji snorted, finishing the cigarette and flicking it onto the street below. Karma pushed a wild gust of wind through the window. _My nipples must be hard as rocks by now_. "Well, if I get caught in Hueco Mundo I'm dead for sure."

"Who cares about you?" Sen laughed, "What's important is the drugs."

"I agree. But really," – a lopsided grin stretched across his face, and he met Sen's eyes fiercely – "the most important thing is money."

The smile on Sen's face disappeared. _Oh?_ He stared at Renji for a moment, expressionless – _well, that's new_ – and then, to Renji's great dismay, the horrendous smile came flashing back. "Don't make such an indecent face," Sen scolded.

Renji barked. "Hah! Did it get you hard?" He leaned forward, and Sen pulled his legs up, tilting away.

"Maybe."

"Let me see!"

"Don't look, it's embarrassing." But he didn't sound embarrassed at all.

'_You playing with me, old man?_

"C'mon," Renji groaned, "Don't play hard to get!"

"What are you," Sen chided, "A perverted old man?"

A rolled up newspaper smacked Renji's face. He blinked.

"Here's your reward, Transporter-kun."

Renji snatched up the newspaper. When it opened, a thick wad of cash presented itself to him, neatly tied in the center "What's this?"

"Advance payment for the meth," Sen answered. He was standing.

"And the ecstasy?"

"That's dependent on your performance – I haven't decided to give you the job yet."

Renji tsked. _You need me, you asshole. I don't need you_. _Get it straight. _"Did you really just tell me all that as bait when you're here practically begging me to do it, Sen-chan?"

Sen wasn't even facing him anymore, much less looking at him. He was halfway to the door. "You have to be on equal footing when making deals, Zabi-kun," he said, "If you don't watch it, the Inuzuri Group will find out how you've been fooling around."

"Eh? How are we equal?" Renji called out, "You're taking advantage of me!"

"I'll call you to let you know the details." With that, Sen was out the door. His footsteps echoed down the corridor.

"It's not like I'm afraid of them – "

_CLUNK! _The door to the stairwell had closed.

"Don't' leave while I'm still talking!"

Renji sat back with a disgruntled huff, loathing the cold air that surrounded him.

* * *

><p>Byakuya had just stepped from shower when his phone began to chime. With steam rolling off his shoulders and water dripping onto the soft mat below his feet, he hurriedly made his way to the nightstand in his bedroom.<p>

A hard voice came through when he answered.

"It's Soi Fon."

"What is it?" He took a seat on the edge of the bed.

"'Just got word from Akon. They got the stuff from Maru Zabi."

_That was fast – I wonder if he's trying to impress me._ "Have they confirmed the contents? …Are you positive? If it's not all there, it would be a bad joke."

He laid down, feet still firmly planted on the floor. "I understand. And no, he's easier to handle than I thought he'd be…I know. Bye."

The phone slid out of his hand. He blinked tiredly at the ceiling.

_Sleep_, he ordered. _Sleep._

Two hours passed before his mind finally obeyed.

* * *

><p><strong>Comments are always great, I hope you enjoyed the chapter!<strong>


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **I apologize for any grammar/spelling mistakes: they will be fixed soon. A big chunk is missing from this chapter, a chunk that I fought with for two hours before deciding to just sleep on it and put it into the next chapter. For that reason, the next chapter might be short.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Three<strong>

_I feel like I'm surrounded by fucking children_.

Renji scooted as far back into the velvet-upholstered booth as it premised, away from the sweaty sea of teenagers – _I know they're not teenagers; they just…look really young, okay? – _and into the only solitude the club provided. The building was _shaking _around them, although the occupants – especially those weaved in the center – didn't seem to mind. Renji imagined if he was in the middle of it all, like recently-declared-not-guilty-on-all-charges Ayasegawa Yumichika and fuck-it-all-let's-throw-a-celebration-in-the-name-of-freedom Madarame Ikkaku, he would enjoy it as well, but as it stood – it sucked, and he was near miserable.

…mostly because the club's light system made him question if he was teetering on the edge of an epileptic seizure.

Also, the food was shit.

Renji sighed and laid his head on the table. He watched Izuru wrap his arms around the shoulders of Hisagi Shuuhei, a friend and colleague of his whose company Renji enjoyed – and had enjoyed – as well, from across the bar. A posse of scantily clad women walked into his line of vision and when they were gone, so were the two men.

Renji groaned and shut his eyes. _I will turn into a Buddha and shut this all out from my mind. Om…om…_

"What the fuck are ya' doing, ya dumbass?!" Something wet and cold seeped into his hair.

"What the fuck did you just get in my hair, asshole?" Renji yelled, though he didn't sit up and he outright refused to open his eyes. The look of the place was making him sick. The smell of the place was making him sick. The kids _audibly_ humping each other right in front of their table was making him sick. _I think this bar is giving me cancer. _

"Oh come on!" Yumichika groaned; his hand smacked Renji's eyes and he pulled the skin back, forcing the eyelids to rise. Renji slapped his hand away. "You're being so boring tonight," Yumichika whined, "This is a celebration! A celebration of corruption and freedom and all things good in the world!"

Renji rolled his eyes. "How'd you even do it?" He'd heard of the decision before Ikkaku had called him screaming to the high heavens about it at 2AM, although he'd only glanced at the header. **AYASEGAWA CLEARED OF ALL CHARGES**, the newspaper'd read – it was a front page story and Yumichika's smug face had been plastered right below the headliner.

"Money, of course!" Ikkaku butt in, accompanying the charge with a swig of sake.

"Money indeed," Yumichika nodded, taking a drink as well. He grinned at Renji, "Did you miss me?"

Renji spluttered. "Me? Miss a pompous whore like you? Hah!"

Yumichika's thumb was suddenly dragging across Renji's lip, and his heart skipped a beat. Yumichika laughed knowingly, winking at him as he pulled away. "Not even a little bit?"

Renji's brow furrowed. _This is what I hate about him. __He's swift and cunning and like any master whore, he can read you like an open book. He's strong, and I guess that's how he's managed to stay friends with Ikkaku. Anyways, there has to be a reason he's one of the top dogs of the Zaraki Group. He's a vain little kagema bitch, but he's not weak. _

"I missed the way your ass milked my cock," Renji stated gruffly. _I wonder how well it was milking that yakuza's cock when he started yapping about me._ "On that note" – he jabbed his finger into Yumichika's chest – "You need to learn how to keep your mouth shut, you son of a bitch."

"What are you tal – "

Renji stood. "I'm going to take a piss."

Two minutes of uncomfortably moist bodies – _that won't – fucking – move – out the – FUCKING HELL, REALLY? – way _– later, and Renji was kicking open the bathroom door. A few men stood – _more like swayed_ – at the urinals to his left, and two of the ten stalls on his right were shut. Renji was relieved to see that no piss had accumulated on the floor yet. He made way to the urinal farthest back, unbuttoning himself as he walked.

_Sssss. _

Renji closed his eyes, feeling the tension melt away. _Almost better than an orgasm, this is. _

"Fuck, harder."

Renji's ears perked up. He turned his head to the stall behind him – it was closed.

"Harder," a hushed, familiar voice demanded.

_Izuru?_

Renji zipped and glanced down the row of urinals. Only one person remained, and he appeared – for all intents and purposes – completely fucking out of it. _I could breathe on him and he'd probably topple right over_.

As luck would have it, the man fell backwards – no breath required – five second later. He was snoring when he hit the floor.

"So close," Izuru whimpered.

Renji did a 180 and pounded his first against the stall. "Open up!" he roared, "It's the po –"

The door slid open and the only thing that kept Renji from tumbling inside was a pair of sweat-slicked men furiously fucking a mere foot away. Izuru's face was smushed into the wall; his red-flushed cock was slapping against his stomach and – just as Renji'd expected – his hands were gripped behind his back without the help of any other physical restraints, because that was just how Izuru did.

Shuuhei was looking stoic as ever, with his serious face and powerful thrusts. He turned to Renji _– woah there buddy, that glare needs a break –_ and jerked his head towards Izuru.

_Haha. _

_Sure. _

Renji leaned against the wall and clasped Izuru's cock, leisurely jacking the taut muscle. Up and down, up and down. Izuru choked. His hips began to thrust fervently – back and forth, back and forth – as he gave way to his inhibitions and fucked himself on Shuuhei's engorged cock, fucked his dick into Renji's all-encompassing hand. "That's it," Renji huskily encouraged, "Fuck yourself, Izuru. Swallow his cock with your hole."

Izuru whimpered. His cock throbbed in Renji's hand. _You're so close. _

Shuuhei could apparently read minds - or Renji's, at least. "Come,"he demanded, "Come you fucking cockwhore."

Izuru moaned and, just like that, exploded into Renji's hand. He sagged when his orgasm waned.

"Clean his hand, Izuru," Shuuhei ordered with a gentle slap to Izuru's neck. He had removed his member from Izuru, although it was still raging hard and glistening with pre-cum. Izuru slipped to his knees without the support. "Be a good boy and lick up your mess."

Renji shook his head. _I should be getting back. _"I'm good." He closed the stall door behind him, leaving the two to finish in the romantic ways that only they did. _Me and Izuru fuck_, he thought as he washed himself over the bathroom's sink. _Izuru and Shuuhei fuck, for sure, but…they also make love, too._

Renji playfully kicked the man still passed out on the floor as he left.

* * *

><p>In the end, a woman accompanied Renji when he left for home. They fucked hard and rough – she'd wanted it that way from the very beginning, and who was Renji to deny her? – for hours, although they did take breaks. She was beautiful, passionate – <em>definitely foreign…like Latin, or something <em>– and knew just how to get him off. Her Japanese was stellar and the things she murmured to him when they were in the thick of it had him questioning on multiple occasions if he'd blow it too soon.

He didn't – _of course I fucking didn't_ – but the thrill of it all had been astounding, so much so that he contemplated asking her for her number on their fifth go. He didn't do that, either.

"You're fucking gorgeous." She was wrapped in his arms and the curves of her figure pressed into him in all the right places. Thick, ink-black hair shrouded her face, but Renji didn't want to untangle himself from her to push it away. She smelled like eucalyptus.

"You are quite attractive as well," she replied softly. Renji loved her accent. "I especially like your tattoos. They are very eye-catching – your red hair as well. I find you very unique."

Renji laughed, "Unique, eh? I can live with that."

Her body shook vibrated when she laughed. "Good."

"'You tired?" _Please say no. _"I can go again if you can."

She rode him, had him nestle his face into her breasts – _I think I know what heaven's like now _– and when he came, she did to. Afterwards she excused herself to the restroom, and Renji took the opportunity to thank Gotei 13 and their corrupted Central 46, thank Ikkaku for guilt-tripping him into coming out for drinks, thank whichever spiritual entity that constructed the woman in his bathroom…

A few minutes later she returned, and they slept.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Curdled, lukewarm vomit. <strong>_

"_**Kill 'em." **_

_**Slippery trigger.**_

"_**Kill 'em."**_

_**Shrinking walls.**_

"_**Three bullets…"**_

_**Engorged heads.**_

"…_**for three bugs."**_

_**White hot pain.**_

"_**Kill 'em all."**_

_**BANG!**_

_**Splattered brains. **_

_**Whistle. "Nice one."**_

_**BANG!**_

_**Fountain of blood. **_

_**Screaming.**_

"_**Tsk, almost missed that one. Lucky."**_

_**Pause.**_

"_**Please, no – !" **_

_**BANG!**_

Renji's eyes snapped wide. Above him hovered the woman from the club, eyes sparkling with concern as she gazed down at him. They were red-rimmed and Renji quickly realized that he had awakened her. _Dammit. _He opened his mouth to apologize – tell her to go back to sleep, tell her it was only a silly nightmare – but no sound came out. He felt paralyzed lying there, unable to speak, unable to move, heart thumping frantically beneath his chest –

"It's okay," the woman whispered. "It's okay."

_It's not okay. _Minutes passed before Renji's body returned to him – when it did, he pushed her away. _You can't be here._ "Please leave." His voice was hushed. _I can't do this with you here. _"Please. I'm sorry. Please leave." _You're beautiful. You were great. I'm sorry. _

The woman stared at him and – _no...stop it..._– an awful, understanding frown saddened her face. Five minutes later, she was gone.

Her gentle 'goodbye' forced stinging tears to well up in his eyes.

* * *

><p>It was pelting half frozen rain when Renji finally made it into the abandoned building; he made sure to turn heel and scream mindless profanities at the offending weather once he was safely sheltered, but being soaked to the bone put a damper on his energy for such things. He was climbing the stairs before long.<p>

"Sorry," he called as he neared the room, "The weather's fucking shit, if you haven't already n– "

That was when Renji caught sight of him. At that moment, the rain stopped clattering atop the roof and the wind stopped whistling through the cracks. The dripping from the water-damaged ceiling paused and Sen, Zakura Sen, Deputy Underboss of the Sabitsura Group, exhaled.

His face was calm, and that – that expression, that completely honest expression – was what held Renji in place, unmoving and – Renji's lungs fluttered – unbreathing. He stared at the man because the man could do nothing to stop him from doing it. The man was hunched over, and his midnight hair covered half his face, and he was unmasked for the first real time because this man – this man was sleeping.

Renji took a breath. The air was cold and damp.

Sen didn't care. He was seated next to the window and rain flew onto his hair and shoulders – by the state of his wool jacket, he'd been there ever since the rain had turned sour. By the looks of it, he hadn't stirred even once. _If he had, he would've moved away – I can't imagine hypothermia being on the list of 'Agreeable Yakuza Death Scenarios', even for one as peculiar as this… _

Renji couldn't stop himself: he sat, cross-legged, in front of Sen, gazing hard into the man's unnaturally blank face. It looked odd unaccompanied by Sen's trademark smirk, without his haughty eyes or amusedly quirked eyebrow. Renji recalled the times when he'd seen Sen serious – he questioned, especially now, if that had all just been a part of his façade too.

_What would Sen look like, _he wondered, _if he opened his eyes right now?_

He's mind ached for the answer.

"Wake up, you old kagema."

Sen sucked in a steady breath – it brushed against Renji's cheek when he released it.

"Wake up."

A crack of thunder boomed and Sen jerked his head away from the window, face as unperturbed as ever.

Renji cupped Sen's cheek in his hand. The skin was warm where the cold-flush was, and everywhere else his palm felt clung onto a tacky chill.

"You're not waking up, are you?"

When Sen didn't stir, Renji let his hand fall into his lap.

_Deep sleeper, I guess. _

He pushed himself away and grabbed the laptop from his bag.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: **Writing for Byakuya is fackin' hard.

**References: **

_Ofuro – _Japanese bath

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Four<strong>

_Just a little longer until sunrise. _

Byakuya hadn't observed dawn's arrival earlier that morning, but the soft twilight that signified its entrance had eventually caught his eye. It was a gentle blue, the sky was, and it made a bad taste form on his tongue. _The brightness is unfitting without the Sun's physical manifestation_. Daybreak's twilight had never been something he enjoyed – in truth, he found it abhorrently pretentious – and this morning's display ascertained his dislike. _The sun, so grandiose in its very being, _he scrutinized, _finds the still darkness of night so horrifically repulsive that she must change the very canvas of their shared stage before deeming it worthy of her presence. _

An unknown amount of time had lapsed when a golden beam of light noiselessly struck the cement balcony outside of Byakuya's window. _And it arrives. _He made to stand, capping the calligraphy pen resting on his desk in the process. Pain assaulted the underside of his feet when he walked – and he had half the mind to collapse onto the floor until that too became excruciating as well – but a mute, invisible force pushed him onwards.

He was twisting the knobs overhead the bathtub in his washroom next, and scalding water flooded the acrylic basin. He didn't recall ever stamping the water heater button outside, but he also couldn't remember what had happened between the agonizing foot pains and him being fully undressed, sitting on the edge of the ofuro as it filled.

After six consecutive sleepless nights, his mind was a damaged record that skipped over many things.

He bathed in liquid fire. It was agonizing in its own way – maybe worse than the walking – but it kept him alert, and that was miles better than the zombie-fied shell of a man he became otherwise. The submerged skin – painted red and smoking – shrieked for relief, but he ignored it.

A woman born to no surname fuzzed just inside his peripheral vision near the door. It was a lie – _a stagnant falsehood that refuses to let me be no matter what I do to dispel it _– but his head still jerked to face it.

Nothing was there, of course. Hisana – Kuchiki Hisana now, because he'd married her and thus passed on his family name – was dead, and no hallucination would ever change that. Her spirit was gone, just like her ashen body; it would never return to comfort him like it once had.

"Stop playing this game." His voice sounded like it came from another person. "She's dead."

_I will not let the memory of her haunt me for the rest of my life. That would be a disgrace to her memory. _

Byakuya slid deeper into the bathtub, allowing the water to further drench his hair. Above him the ceiling spiraled – _no_, he thought, _I'm the one doing this_ – and he squeezed his eyes shut. Splashes of color swirled nauseatingly behind his eyelids.

_Damn it all. _

Twenty minutes came and went, and Byakuya's mind snapped into focus once again.

He felt different this time. Something was alight in his stomach, something tight and hot and – Byakuya stilled.

_Am I really?_

The stiff, thick member between his legs gave a heavy throb. Its pink, mushroom-shaped head was peeking above the water's surface, lewdly displaying the viscous pre-ejaculate that made it glisten. _This is obscene, _he thought, and a rush of need swallowed him whole.

He wrapped his fingers around the length and slowly – sensually – caressed it. Each flick of his wrist sent indescribable, ardent pleasure pounding through his veins. _It has been weeks since I've last done this._ Raw, lustful fervor clouded his mind following that thought.

The desire to come was carnal and unstoppable; his pace fastened. _Don't want to stop. Don't want it to end. _Images flashed before his eyes: red hair, plump breasts, hard bodies, slick holes, wild smiles – Byakuya grunted.

_I want to fuck him. _

That soul-searching glare, the feel of his lips –

_I want to fuck him. The kid. I want to – _

How his hand had clenched Byakuya's shirt –

—_he's a wild dog, an ignorant child who knows nothing – _

The stupid smirk he'd had –

— _and I want him to fuck me. _

Byakuya came with a gasp. The orgasm rocked through his entire body, exploded behind his eyes and burned deep within his balls. The ending was unpleasantly painful but the tight, salacious feeling that'd been balled up inside him was released nonetheless, and for that he was grateful.

* * *

><p><em>Shit.<em>

It was the first thing that came to Byakuya's mind when he stirred. _I fell asleep. _The coat he was sporting was wet and heavy – _freezing cold, too_ – and he came to the speedy realization that the weather must've worsened after he'd dozed off.

"You wakin' up, old man?"

_Damn it all to hell. He's here. _Byakuya wobbled, still not altogether departed from his sleep. It had been the first in two days, seeming more like a blackout than anything, and Byakuya prayed that it'd been short. _Why didn't he wake me up?_ A few seconds drudged by and Byakuya gathered enough strength to crack open his eyes.

Zabi looked comfortable, sitting in front of him like he was. His jacket was zipped up – _to keep warm, I suppose; he always looks cold when we meet _– and a thick, grey scarf hid his neck and chin. The red bandana Byakuya'd become accustomed to seeing wasn't wrapped around his forehead this time, although he did still have his hair tied into a loose high-bun. Some clumpy strands of wet hair had fallen from the knot, but it wasn't an unattractive look.

"What are you doing?" Byakuya asked when he became confident his voice wouldn't break. Zabi was hunched over a laptop, head resting sideways in his hand, and gazing into its fluorescent screen. He was reading something, but Byakuya wasn't sure what. _It must not be that important if he's got that look on his face._

"Checking my e-mails," Zabi replied, tone disinterested, "Didn't want to sit here and look at your ugly mug the whole time."

Byakuya let out an inaudible snort. _The last time we met, you essentially begged to see my erection. Now you call me ugly. I'm dealing with a pubescent teenager. _"How long did I sleep?"

Zabi straightened and began clacking away at the keyboard. "Forty minutes, probably – I was only here for twenty of them, though."

_That's not too bad._ Byakuya shed his coat. "You should've woken me up."

"Tried."

_It was one of those kinds of sleeps, then. _He craned his neck to look out the window. The rain came down hard and fast, without mercy or forgiveness, and was accompanied by equally intolerant blasts of wind that slapped his entire face with icy mist. _I hope it lets up by the time we're finished. I don't have an umbrella._

Byakuya turned back around."Hurry up, will you? I don't have the time for this," he lied.

"Hah! That's rich – remind me again, who was the one sleeping just now?"

Byakuya pulled out a pack of cigarettes from his back pocket. _Almost empty. _He frowned. _I'll buy new ones on the way home. _

"Oh, by the _wa-a-ay." _

Byakuya cocked an eyebrow to Zabi, who was looking like he'd up and devour Byakuya if he wasn't careful. He wore a lazy, lopsided grin and something darkly playful and inherently sinful glimmered in his eyes. _Why is he looked at me like that?_

"You said my name in your sleep, Sen-chan."

_No I didn't_. "Who did?"

"You!" Zabi laughed. "My heart skipped a beat and I got this funny feeling..." He broke their gaze then, and went back to working on his laptop. "You look so pretty when you sleep, too. I was mesmerized! An ex of mine could learn a thing or two from you, you know."

Byakuya thumbed the scroll on his lighter. "It was just sleep talking – why're you interpreting it as something disgusting? 'Having sexual fantasies about me already, kid?"

"Harrharr," Zabi deadpanned. "You know, I could be lying. With how you're projecting right now, though –"

"Are you?"

He furrowed his eyebrows, confused. "What, lying?"

"Yeah."

It came from nowhere, the tender, rosy blush that spread across Zabi's nose and cheeks. His ear-splitting grin humbled, and Byakuya pondered why Zabi had, in the end, adverted his gaze. _Click! C-click! _"...maybe," he chuckled.

Byakuya rolled his eyes. _Are we in grade school again? I'm too tired for this. _"Whatever, just hurry up and finish – "

"I lied."

Byakuya inhaled his cigarette – it tasted like menthol.

"About the name thing, but" – Zabi looked up at him briefly – "not about the face thing. I really was fascinated by it."

_I'm not sure what he expects me to say. _

"The atmosphere's getting weird," Zabi announced a little while later, "You should say something."

_I don't know what he wants from me, either. _

"...maybe it's just me, I don't know."

_This is stupid. _Byakuya hunched over with an irritated sigh, tightly pinching the bridge of his nose. _Kids are so damn annoying. _"My brain's a bit slow because I just woke up – give me a minute and I'll figure out your intentions for myself."_ I don't understand what you're trying to get from me. _

"Hah!" Zabi barked. "I really got you, didn't I?"

Byakuya shot him a sour glare, but it only caused him to snigger harder.

"Do you want to know why I took a job from you, Sen? Because I almost never take jobs from Yakuza."

That piqued Byakuya's interest. _He's not lying – his profile shows that he rarely takes jobs outside of Aizen's Espada or the Inuzuri Group. He works for the Inuzuri because he grew up in that district, probably, but why he works for the Espada – that's what I really want to know. _"Tell me."

"I took a job from you because I really like your face." Zabi paused, but Byakuya's silence must've intimated him because he quickly added: "That's literally the only reason."

_He seriously thinks of me like that? I was just playing with him before._ A cylinder of ash crumbled off from Byakuya's cigarette. "What's your intention of telling me that?"

"Don't be freaked out," Zabi laughed,"I'm not going to jump on you or anything. It has nothing to do with our deal – once I accept something, I finish it."

"I don't understand what you're saying." Because Byakuya still didn't.

"Gah, stop being so slow!" Zabi groaned. "I'm obviously trying to make you realize my ulterior motive in all of this."

"The fact that you like men wasn't in my information."

Zabi glared, but it was weak and lacked honest ill-will. "Will you get that damn smirk of your face, asshole? I'm not picky about that sort of thing. My dick wants what my dick wants, y'know?"

_That's a very crude way of putting it, but yes. _

"I never thought I'd like a Yakuza, though. But if it's you, it's okay." Zabi was typing again. "I've…never met a man like you before."

The brutal honesty in that admission – said like it was nothing, but so blatantly something – froze Byakuya. _Why did he say that? _Memories of Hisana, of the first time they'd met – when she'd still been filthy and half-starved – came popping up like weeds. He forced them back. _Get out of my head. Why...what did he mean by that?_

Byakuya remembered who it was exactly sitting in across from him then and forcibly relaxed. The cigarette hanging from his lips was nearing its end, and he let the wind take hold of it outside the window. If Zabi had noticed his blunder, he was keeping it to himself. "Why are you so devoted to the Espada and Inuzuri Group?" he asked.

A look of surprise flashed across Zabi's face, but he'd composed himself a moment later."How did our conversation lead to a question like that? You're not seductive at all..." he grumbled.

Byakuya laughed. "What, I can't ask about it?"

"Well, I've got no reason to tell you for one."

"And for two?"

Zabi rolled his eyes. "I don't want to?"

"Because you're hiding something?"

"No, I just don't – fine. Whatever." He gazed down at his computer, but his eyes were unmoving and he wasn't typing anything. "I dont' give two shits about the Inuzuri Group."

Byakuya folded his arms. "Alright then. And the Espada – ?"

Zabi's laptop suddenly snapped shut, cutting him off.

"Alright, I'm done checking my e-mail," he proclaimed. "Let's talk business."


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: **Short one. Sorreh.

**References:**

"_The West" – _Where the upper districts of Rukongai are situated

_Yakiniku – _Japanese barbeque (If you've watched Naruto, Choji frequents Yakiniku restaurants often with friends.)

_Rōsu_ – Beef loin and chuck slices

_Karubi_ – Short ribs

_Shio-tan – _Beef tongue

_Atsukan – _Hot sake

_Misutohābā – _'Mist Harbor', would place as 52nd District; where Renji currently resides

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Five<strong>

_Crunch! _

A splatter of blood sprayed across the dirt floor and Renji cupped his nose, letting loose a savage howl that echoed in the grass fields circling all around them. Blood gushed from his nostrils like a high-pressured waterfall, sweeping down over his mouth and chin and onto his bare, heaving chest. Sweat and blood fused together and seeped into the fresh cuts and abrasions he'd accumulated in that hour, making them sting and itch uncomfortably.

"You broke my fucking nose!" he exclaimed.

"Then don't leave yourself wide open, fuckhead!" Ikkaku bellowed and charged at him. He wound his arm back and jut it forward a half second earlier that Renji'd anticipated, and his fist slammed hard into Renji's jaw.

"Are you fucking deaf? What did I just tell you!"

Renji dropped. _Ugh! _A haze of dust and dirt flew up from the collision, allowing him momentary shelter. _It ain't gonna' last forever, though._ A reedy, sparsely haired leg appeared through the grime-mist and Renji jumped at the opportunity. He heard Ikkaku grunt after the tackle and attempt to push him off, but Renji wasn't the only one beat up and exhausted, and his physical mass was not going to budge in that position. _Not for a bean sprout like this dickhead. _

"Get off me, you fatass!" Ikkaku shouted.

Renji observed the man fidgeting below him while he gathered his breath. Sweat beading down Ikkaku's nonexistent hairline and formed tracks in the carmine-stained filth that stuck onto his face. His left eye was swollen shut and tinged purple and crusty, coagulated blood sealed the nasty split lip Renji'd given him earlier on in the brawl. His body trembled – with anger or pain, Renji didn't know – underneath his weight.

"The fight's over," Renji told him matter-of-factly. "I need to reset my nose."

There was a short-lived stare-down, and Ikkaku conceded with a bitter glower. "Fine."

_Huff and puff all you want, cuntface. This is your fault_. Renji rolled off him. The pulsating pain radiating from his nose worsened without the scuffle's distraction. _Alright, let's do this. _Renji squeezed his eyes shut and locked in a breath. _One….two-thr –_

_Snap!_

"Agh!" The initial pain was over quickly, however the deep-felt soreness that came right after persisted. _Ibuprofen, here I come. _

"Did you get it?"

Renji straightened and nodded. "Yeah. It'll be fine." _Nothing worth crying about, anyways._

Ikkaku pat his shoulder. "Let's wash up and get somethin'a eat. I'm fuckin' starving over here."

* * *

><p>Zaraki was far too desolate to even consider finding a proper meal there, so Renji and Ikkaku took an hour long bullet train – <em>and you can bet your ass Ikkaku bitched the whole <em>fuckin_' way through_ – down sixteen districts and stepped out onto the streets of Sabitsura. The land was much more dynamic – something not hard accomplish being that the Zaraki District was an empty and godforsaken grass desert – and laborers came bustling up and down the severely potholed and cracked asphalt roads. Renji suspected they'd been laid down back in the industrial era when Sereitei had mandated all of Rukongai to and never touched since.

_Not poor, though_. The residents worked hard – physical labor, typically – and most lead good, honest lives. They were a hard people — the type that Renji respected. They weren't cynical or bitter with their misfortunes but instead accepted them, and were better for it. _I'd rather take advice from any one of these Joe Schmoes than some highbrow noble in the West. _

Ikkaku found a buzzing Yakiniku restaurant seated directly across the street from a brothel. _Can't argue with that. _They ordered drinks at the bar and sat at one of the few vacant tables in the place; it was noisy and unruly with all the people packed inside, but it wasn't necessarily bothersome. Renji relaxed in his seat. '_Feels kinda' homey, actually. _

The waiter came by and set down their drinks a few minutes later. "You guys need a little more time?"

"Nah. Two plates of Rōsu, one Karubi and one Vegetable." Ikkaku replied.

"And Shio-tan," Renji added. "Just one."

The waiter bowed and left.

"So, how's life treated you?" Ikkaku kicked his feet up on the bench next to Renji.

Renji shrugged. "Good, I guess."

"Gotten in any trouble with anyone? I'll kill them for you, if you wan'."

Renji laughed. "Nah, not really. The job I've got right now has me working overseas — wouldn't really call myself nervous about it, but you know how it goes. The eighth's been hitting a lot of people lately."

Ikkaku chuckled. "They're making up for what happened two months ago, man. Tried to take out some group in Hueco Mundo – the Espada, maybe? Probably; I don't know – and had their asses fucking handed to them on a silver platter, they did. Total failure. Yumichika probably knows the exact amount of money that they lost on it."

"Mmm. Well, it's whatever. I doubt I'll get caught." _Not if I play my cards right. _

"Yeah, well – stay lucky."

They clunk glasses and drank to that.

"Where's Yumichika anyways?" Renji finished his beer and clapped the empty glass onto the table.

"Kempachi's got him off killin' someone, I think. 'Dunno for sure."

_Oh wow, he actually does that? _"You ever see him kill someone in real life? What's he like?"

Ikkaku snorted. "Not much different from how he usually is. God forbid he gets blood on his clothes. Never ending bitch fest for days, I tell you. Fuckin' annoying."

_Sounds like Yumichika. _"Oh, so he's really done it? 'Thought he just dealt with prostitution."

Ikkaku shook his head. "Nah, he'll kill if Kempachi tells 'im to. Or if some schmuck tries to fuck with one of his gals. Actually, he's got some pretty nasty bloodlust – never really thought about it before."

The waiter came with their food and another glass of beer for Renji following that. The meat sizzled delectably when it hit the grill. They talked about nothing important while they ate, and beer was in plenty of abundance all throughout. Atsukan replaced it when they ordered another platter of beef tongue.

"How's your nose"—Ikkaku hiccuped— "ugh, feeling?"

"I'm drunk," Renji slurred, "I can't feel my fucking fingers let alone my goddamn nose." The alcohol had hit him not a minute prior and was making the world twirl before his very eyes. It wasn't nauseating yet – just funny.

Ikkaku sniggered. "Drunk already? 'Think it's about time we head over to tha' brothel over there, then."

Renji hiccupped and shook his head, squeezing his limp cock through his jeans. It'd taken him a moment to find it. "No…no. Pretty sure I got whiskey dick right now."

"Ya' fuckin' lightweight bitch," Ikkaku mocked.

"Shuddup." Meat magically materialized on their table from nowhere – _spirit of Buddha put it here fer me…totally… – _and they downed five more glasses of sake and two shots of chilled omeshu before paying the bill and stumbling out the entrance. It was frigid outside, although it wasn't as bad as Renj's district, Misutohābā.

"Gimme th' time," Renji ordered, tongue thick. Everything entering his vision came three seconds late, making it difficult to stand or walk without support. He leaned heavily on Ikkaku. The added bodily warmth was a plus. _Grade A heat right here. Would recommend. _

"11PM." Ikkaku must've been dragging him because they were definitely moving and Renji's feet were most surely not functioning. '_Should open my eyes…bet I'd find out. Hahaha… _"C'mon, we're goin' to the brothel."

* * *

><p>Renji thought about Sen when he fucked a long haired, flat-chested woman against the brothel's street-facing window that night. She looked pretty enough – <em> mmm…tomboyish<em> – and obediently bended to his will without complaint. Her undisguised disinterest would've annoyed him if he hadn't been shitfaced, but her stick-like figure made it easy to pretend she was Sen, so it wasn't that much of an issue. _Her pussy feels good, and that's all that matters. _

"Sen," he breathed into her pale, fragile neck. There were love bites on it, but they weren't his. "Sen."

He came on her face two minutes later – imagining Sen's demeaning, self-righteous eyes staring into his – and crawled on his hands and knees to the futon in the corner. He fell asleep listening to Ikkaku fuck the prostitute next door.

* * *

><p>Byakuya was sipping cold, take-out curry from its container – <em>my grandfather is rolling around in his grave right now over this – <em>when his phone went off. The number was familiar.

"Yes?" he answered.

"It's me."

Byakuya clucked his tongue. "Shiba?"

"No."

"Saido?"

"No."

He smirked."Yamada?"

"..."

"Aida?"

Zabi exhaled exasperatingly, and Byakuya pulled the phone away from his ear. "Stop playing with me, asshole!" Zabi growled.

Byakuya swirled the curry settling on the button of the container and took a gulp. "Are you sure you're not a con artist?"

"Ah right, I am! Transfer three million yen to this account number, please – "

"Can I hang up?" he deadpanned.

"Where do you live?" Zabi asked. His tone was unexpectedly serious.

_Why does he want to know that? _"Not telling. Are you a stalker or s – ? "

"Come get some ramen with me, Sen-chan."

Byakuya exhaled, wary. "Are you drunk, kid? Where are you?"

"I'm not drunk. Meet me at the 7-Eleven by the east harbor in thirty minutes."

_Click! _

Byakuya frowned at his phone. _Maru Zabi...__what do you want from me? __  
><em>

The wind outside was cold.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: **Renji can't even. Sorry about the wait. I'm really scared that my writing's getting worse, but hey, it is what it is. Review if you'd like.

**References: **

_Tenmusu_ – shrimp tempura

_Tanaka_ – pickled vegetables

_Mentaiko_ – spicy pollock roe

_Sujiko_ – non-marinated salmon roe (as opposed to Ikura, which is marinated in soy sauce)

_Anpan_ – red bean-filled sweet bread

_Junrinan_ – 1st District of Rukongai

_Noren – _traditional Japanese hanging dividers made from fabric

_Yatai – _a mobile food stand that typically sells ramen, but can also serve other food

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Six<strong>

Renji had dreaded the return trip to Misutohābā so fiercely that he opted to stay an extra two days with Ikkaku, preferring to drown his liver in alcohol and have his cock engaged ad nauseam than bear the brain cell-massacring two hour train ride back home. They drank like fish together in Sabitsura, brawled like idiots in the streets and fucked prostitutes until their cocks chaffed. Ikkaku lasted longer than Renji in all three categories – _fucking Yakuza cocksucker – _and carried an obnoxiously upbeat smile when he waved Renji off at the train station.

Renji answered by puking into a plastic bag while flipping him off on the other side of the window.

The ride had been just like he'd anticipated – horrible. No sleep advanced to tranquilize his hangover migraine, the sheer sight of food made him queasy and the center of his face left him in complete and utter misery – the baggy purple and yellow bruising under his eyes didn't even begin to explain it. When the train came to a full stop inside his district's main station, Renji could've pissed himself from relief.

The following week didn't have him doing much. He went to the clinic for a checkup – _"No, I didn't get beat up by a bunch of thugs, Doc. Me and a friend just brawled a bit over the weekend – seriously! My nose is fine, dammit, I already fixed it! Don't touch it, don't – agh! Goddamit, you whore!" – _watched university baseball on the TV, ordered take-out twice a day and, in essence, lazed around his apartment.

It made him feel like a lethargic sloth – specifically around the third day onwards – but the break was warranted. The ecstasy deliveries for the Sabitsura Group had been more stressful than they should've been given how practiced he was with oversea jobs; he hadn't been afraid of the Espada discovering him there – he was _a_ transporter, not _their_ transporter – but moreso the possibility of a raid. _Or that this could be a setup. _

Fortunately, Hueco Mundo went over smoothly, and all he had left to do now was wait. _Good thing I'm supposed to be bedridden under doctor's orders – seriously, Renji, what the hell made you think spending time with that maniac would be anything close to relaxing? I feel more fucked up than I did in Hueco Mundo. _

It startled him when a suspicious-looking, unmarked package came through his mail five days after his hospital visit. He wasn't so paranoid to think it a dangerous threat from those he'd wronged in the past, but he didn't go around preaching his home address on the streets, and whoever had made the delivery probably wasn't an upstanding, law-abiding citizen.

Nevertheless, the contents were harmless – just high dose prescription pain meds. There was a note accompanying them, handwritten in practiced, elegant script that went to great lengths informing Renji of how 'moronic' and 'immature' he was – it explained the permanent marker labelling of 'IDIOT PILLS' on the amber-tinted bottle. Renji assumed they were Vicodin, and swallowed two dry. They worked, and he called Yumichika later on that night to thank him, but the line went to voicemail and he hung up before the tone could beep.

Dense blankets of fog rolled in the next day, and Renji pulled on his heaviest scarf and rain jacket when he went to the convenience store to stock up on food and cigarettes. The warmth of the place was amazing, and there was no crunch to his step on their cement floors. _Stupid snow. _He greeted the shop owner with a nod and began browsing.

_Tenmusu…Tanaka…Mentaiko – oh man, they don't have Ikura? I guess I'll get Sujiko then…I wonder what kind of bread they have here. I hope they – oh yes! Curry bread. Awesome, I love curry bread. Anpan too, I'm definitely getting some of those...wait, should I get beer? No…yes. Yes. _

He was flipping through a magazine when a petite woman of short stature poked him on the shoulder and asked if he could get her something off the top shelf. She had a pouty, v-shaped face and wide eyes framed by bland, rectangular glasses. Her hair was purpled-tinted and tied up in a loose bun on the nape of her neck. _Looks like a student teacher…_Renji smiled out of habit and handed her what she'd asked for.

The woman lingered.

_Uh. _"…anything else?"

"..no," the woman finally murmured. She looked disappointed. "Thanks." _Sounds like it to. _

Renji watched her walk away. _The hell was that?_

Later that evening he remembered her. Izuru had invited him five months prior to an event in Junrinan, and they had wandered into some high-end Lolita-themed club somewhere along the way. The woman had walked up to the two of them out of the blue and offered a threesome, and of course they'd accepted. The sex was hazy at best – he'd taken a ridiculous amount of drugs that night – but he was positive that she'd left without a word early the next morning, before dawn had even cracked.

_Weird that she lives in the same district as me_. _I wonder what Izuru's up to..._

So Renji phoned him. It had been ages since they'd last talked – not since the club – and he was – to put it frankly – bored off his ass. He reckoned he'd call the Espada sooner or later looking for work – perhaps even the Inuzuri Group – but he'd wait until Monday at the very least; video games and baseball could entertain him until then.

"I'm in the middle of something," Izuru answered tightly after the third ring.

Renji hummed. "Yeah? Like what?"

"I'm – I'm just in the middle of something. I'm hanging up."

There was a commotion, and then a woman was speaking to him. "Bonjour!" she said, voice bubbly. "Sorry about Izuru over here, he's always taking everything so seriously!"

Renji's eyes widened. _Oh no. No way. _"Who…is this?" _Please don't tell me it's – _

"Oh, you can just call me Ran, sweetey. You know, you should come and join us, whoever you are – Izuru and Shuuhei are great and all, but you sound _super _sexy –"

"Rangiku, stop messing around!" Izuru yelled in the background.

Renji wanted to cry. _He's fucking Matsumoto Rangiku. He's fucking Matsumoto motherfucking Rangiku _again_. _

"Uuugh," Rangiku groaned, "Izuru's being _no_ fun tonight. Fine, fine – I'll hang up. Love y –"

Izuru snatched the phone from her and ended the call.

_Well, this is just bullshit. _Renji rolled onto his stomach – causing a flurry of Green Tea KIT-KAT wrappers to go airborne – and yelled into his pillow. "This _sucks!_" Pain hit him and he flopped back over, hissing as he blindly reached for the Vicodin bottle on his bedside table. The under-eye bruises had all but vanished from his skin, but the sensitivity around his nose clung on for dear life.

He waited there, motionless, for the medication to take effect. The ceiling wasn't the most thought-provoking object he could've laid eyes on, but his eyes seemed to enjoy the simplicity of it over the bright colors of the TV, so they stayed. _I don't want sex and I don't want to get drunk_, he decided. I_ just want to hang out with someone, someone like – _

Renji's stomach fluttered. _Fuck. _A blush burned his cheeks.

_I can't believe I'm thinking about this again. _He tightened a hand around his stomach where a hot, tight ball churned deep inside. _I don't feel guilty about thinking about him while I was fucking that girl. I'm just embarrassed that I made it so fuckin' obvious._

Renji squeezed his eyes shut. _I can't even…I remember fucking her, and thinking about Sen. I kept saying his name, dammit. I must've sounded like a total dumbass…_

Renji sighed without meaning to.

_Sen, Zakura Sen, Deputy Underboss of the Sabitsura Group._

The man – for all that he'd tried – remained a mystery to Renji. The time when he'd watched Sen sleep was the closest he'd ever gotten to seeing the man bare, although it had uncovered nothing significant. Sen's initial confusion and obliviousness to Renji's 'ulterior motive' was surprising – and it did show him a tiny bit more of Sen's true character – but it only added to the confusion. Renji never _really _knew what Sen was thinking – not unless the man told him – and that was…unnerving.

_This is stupid. _Renji sat up with purpose; he snatched up his phone and dialed Sen's number. _I'm not going to lie around and think about 'im like a star-cross lover. I'm hungry and bored, and I'm going to call him, and he's going to come out with me whether he likes it or not, dammit._

* * *

><p>"You look like shit."<p>

_Thanks, asshole. _"I had a bit of a wild time last week – in your home town, actually." Renji lifted the noren outside the ramen stand and took a seat inside. There were only four stools provided, and they were all unoccupied given the time of night. _Good_, Renji thought, inhaling a smooth breath of cigarette smoke.

Sen finished his own cigarette outside and joined him a few seconds later. "You were in the 64th?"

"Mmhm, with a friend."

"Did you get into a bar fight? It looks like someone broke your nose."

_Nothing gets past you, does it?_ Renji pouted. "Is it really that obvious? The bruises are pretty much gone…"

Sen laughed at him. "It looks like you reset it right. Good job, Transporter-kun."

Renji nudged his shoulder hard against Sen's, and the man went slightly off balance. "Stop being a dick. I've gotten into more fights than your pansy ass has – I could beat you up if I wanted to." _If I didn't value my life._

"Maybe," Sen hummed. "Why fight when I've got people to do that for me?"

"You mean dogs," Renji corrected.

"Yes. Loyal dogs who know their place in the world."

"Retards," Renji scoffed. "Who'd willingly die for a jerk like you?"

Sen laughed. "Retarded dogs, apparently. Why are we eating at a street stand?"

"Because I'm hungry and poor."

Sen snorted at that, and Renji laughed a little as well.

The chef completed their orders and two fat bowls of ramen sat before them, white steam rolling off into the winter air. Sen snapped apart a pair of disposable chopsticks and prodded the hot noodles. Renji watched him.

"You look weird like that," he said after a minute.

Sen didn't look up. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. Eating at a street stand seems… kind of below you." Sen was dressed in normal clothes, but his posture and demeanor were…conflicting with the yatai's atmosphere. _I feel like I'm watching a noble eat food with his hands. _

Sen slurped up a bundle of noodles. "Don't bring me to one next time, then."

_But it's just so weird. _"You look like an alien."

"You think I'm an alien?"

"Sometimes," Renji admitted. "It's hard to tell what you're thinking most of the time, and you're hot and all, but that personality of yours could really use some work…"

"Why's that?"

"Because I'm tired of you talking down to me, jackass," Renji grumbled, though he wasn't overly serious about it.

"No you're not," Sen said flatly, without pause. "It turns you on."

Renji's face went red hot. _What the – oh fucking hell. _

Sen was carrying the most mocking, self-satisfied smirk Renji had ever seen in his entire life, and the man wasn't even looking at him. He just _knew. _"Only teasing, Zabi-kun."

Renji didn't know what to say, so he spat an always acceptable 'fuck you' and the conversation took a new, less humiliating direction.

* * *

><p>"You should join my group."<p>

They were walking back to the 7-Eleven where they had met at earlier in the night. The ramen in Renji's belly warmed him against the cold, but his socks were damp from the snow and all he wanted to do was curl up under a blanket. He could hear the harbor a little ways off.

"I told you the first time we met – I'm not interested."

"Right now you're not tied to anyone. You don't belong to any group."

"Exactly." He didn't like where the conversation was going, and the sentiment was undisguised in his stiff tone.

Sen ignored it. "It's admirable that you haven't succumbed to this world yet. You're not Yakuza or Espada…do you want to think of yourself as a normal, honest citizen?"

_You don't know anything. _"I'm not interested. Seriously."

Sen clucked his tongue. "Why?"

Rage.

Endless rage exploded inside of Renji. A burst of blue turned his mind black and he threw Sen against the nearest building, pinned both his hands above his head and clenched his wrists tight. "Why the fuck does it matter?" He lifted Sen's arms and slammed them back down. _So angry. I'm so angry._ "Isn't it obvious? I've already been dragged into this world, don't you get it? I'm not going to let _any _of you take me down any deeper than I already am. You think you can get anything you want, but you _can't. _You can't. You'll never have me, you fucking Yakuza piece of shit." _Never. I'll never be your dog. Never...__  
><em>

Sen stared at him impassively.

"You don't know the first thing about me," Renji said, quieter now. His anger was waning rapidly. "You don't know anything."

Sen blinked. "I'm sorry."

_Right. _Renji released him and turned away. "I don't care. Thanks for coming out with me tonight."

"Zabi – "

"Don't."

Sen didn't say anything after that, and Renji walked off into an adjoining allyway.

In his car, the music drowned out the memories of blue hair and blood.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: **Holy-fuckin-shit this one was a hard one to write – and four weeks late to boot! Lovely…I'll edit it soon. There are only three chapters left in this story. I don't know if I can finish them all before I go on vacation next week, but I'll try.

**References: **

_Jigoku – _Hell

_Oni – _Demon

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Seven<strong>

The bruises that resulted from Zabi's assault never fully formed onto Byakuya's wrists. They appeared suddenly – without him even noticing it – four days after the confrontation, unavoidably pronounced on his already somewhat sickly derma. The blotches of yellow - brownish in some places – were unsightly, but they did not connect together and form fully fleshed rings like he'd anticipated. When Byakuya tested their sensitivity, he could dig his thumb fairly deep into the damage before significant discomfort arose. The brown spots hurt worse than the yellow, but neither was particularly afflicting.

He would never openly admit it for fear of shaming himself, but Byakuya could not yet fully grasp how he'd gotten out of the incident with his red-haired suspect so unscathed. He'd hid it well at the time – things of that sort were of second nature to him – but Zabi's attack had genuinely tried him. _It was like all my bones and ligaments and tendons that connected my arms to my hands were being pulverized right as I stood there. _

Byakuya had been prepared for deep, purplish ringlets to form in accordance to that very thought, but when he instead received the softest of injuries, his insecurities – and the subsequent fear that came along with it – multiplied tenfold. _How much of that pain, _he questioned, _was true reality? How much of it was just a lie?_ He couldn't know for sure.

_I really am…impaired by it, aren't I? This dysfunctional piece of trash that I was given…it really is like a black hole trying to suck me away… and all my strength with it._

That night of the dispute, it was all Byakuya could do to keep a straight face in front of his aggressor, when the majority of the time he'd been watching Zabi through the most stomach-churning tunnel vision he'd ever had the displeasure of experiencing. It was easier when he'd been slapped up against the wall – when Zabi had supported his weight and stopped him from falling – even with the feeling of his wrists being slowly ground to dust. The latter only worsened when he'd let go, and Byakuya had had to focus all of his remaining power into standing up straight and keeping in character.

It'd been a godsend when his half-hearted protests were rejected and the transporter left. Byakuya's knees gave out almost immediately, but his fall was softened by the snow. He'd kept there, hunched over and glaring at his throbbing hands, while snow wetted his jeans. The terrible pain lessened greatly the more he breathed, and it hadn't taken long for more pressing matters to garner his attention.

_Why did he become so angry over something so trivial? 'I won't let you take me any deeper than I already am' … what does he mean by that? He can leave the business at any time if wants to. He has no loyalties – or does he? Is it the Inuzuri Group? _ _No…no, he already said he doesn't care about them. The Espada, then? _

His curiosity hadn't been resolved that night, nor in the next day or in any of the ones ensuing. The questions stalked him – relentlessly, unforgivingly – inside his car and under his bed sheets, when he retched up his lunch into the toilet and when he thought about Hisana. Each and every day they _mocked _him, but no matter how many times he rehashed Maru Zabi's profile report and those of the gangs he'd been affiliated with, clarity never came.

_It'll all be over soon, whether I figure this out or not. His backstory has nothing to do with anything… I'm simply curious. _

Two weeks passed. Midway through he realized how fast he was spiraling downwards – probably into some dark, deep pit of Jigoku on the fiery heels of an Oni – but by that time, he hadn't the mind about him care.

'_I won't let you drag me down any deeper than I already am', _he recalled Zabi saying one night as he teetered on the cusp of sleep._ 'You'll never have me.' _

* * *

><p><em>The sun shines very brightly on this side of Rukongai<em>. Byakuya peered mutely at the outside, regarding the sharp, pristine blueness of the cloudless sky. The sun – just a quarter of the way up from the east's horizon – sprayed harsh winter rays across the site, now completely unhindered by the leafless trees that lined the city streets. Byakuya shut his eyes – they were burning after looking at the sun for too long _–_ and fantasies of a stripped ice desert sprung into motion up until he reopened them.

"Lovely weather, isn't it?"

Byakuya turned, tearing his gaze from the café's window and into the warm, sea-blue orbs of the woman poised at the front end of his table. She gracefully inclined her head and offered up a pleasant smile – the same one he'd seen countless times over the course of the last 15 years – and he judged no sense in reciprocating with how weary he was of it.

Byakuya assed Unohana Retsu's person, noting no change in the neutral, comfort-conscious clothing from articles she'd worn in the past, and although she had smartly hidden it – _her mindfulness is admirable –_the iconic braid resting beneath her chin peeked out from behind the thick, hand-knit scarf and taupe peacoat dressing her figure.

_She appears to be doing well. _There wasn't a speckle of grey tarnishing her onyx hair, not a single crinkle to her eyes or even a petty blemish on her skin. Her attire did not compliment the motherly figure she held, but Byakuya suspected no issue arose in that aspect of her either. _It's strange. _Unohana hadn't aged a hair in all the years he'd known her, not in her appearance or in the boundless harmony she exuded. _It's frightening, to be honest. _

Remembering the faded-but-still-present bruises smattering his wrists, Byakuya grabbed the cuffs of his sleeves and tugged them down, shielding his injuries from her sight. Unohana gave him a knowing look – though verbalizing nothing – and Byakuya grimaced without meaning to. _She makes me feel like a child all over again_. _I can't hide anything from her. _

"I personally think it's wonderful," Unohana continued, sliding elegantly into the chair directly across from him. "I cannot wait for spring to come."

Byakuya hummed in response. _That's right…it's already March, isn't it? _

A café attendant appeared at their table right then, carrying a practiced smile and a cup of tea. He turned completely pink in the cheeks when faced with Unohana's benevolent thanks. "N-no problem, ma'am. Th-thank you." He asked Byakuya if he'd finished his coffee – bumbling still – and ran off with his cup when Byakuya nodded.

"Charming boy," Unohana stated. Her eyes bore into Byakuya's face. "Tell me, Byakuya," she said slowly, searchingly. "How have you been?"

Tingles ran up and down the length of Byakuya's hands and arms. He shivered. _It does me no good to hide it. _"I am seeing illusions of Hisana again_," _he announced in one quick, hushed breath. His heart picked up a measure.

A corner of Unohana's smile fell. "Often?"

_Many times a day. _"More often than usual." _She comes to me when I'm sick. She materialized at a crosswalk I was waiting to turn at last week. She stopped me when I tried to pick up the shards of a glass I broke today._

"And your sleep?"

Byakuya shook his head. "In the past two months, I have gotten perhaps two and a half weeks of sleep."

"Have your eating habits been afflicted?"

He paused. "…yes." _I must tell her this. She can write me a prescription to aid my appetite and suppress the nausea. _

"How so?" Unohana lowered her tone a notch.

_My hands are trembling. Why?_ "I have the urge to vomit when I eat. No appetite as usual."

She nodded, contemplative. "I see." Unohana grabbed her teacup with both hands and lifted the rim to her lips; her eyes momentarily drifting down his body. "I'd like to ask how you got those bruises," she said after a short sip.

"It's irrelevant," Byakuya replied, cringing at the hastiness of his execution. _Calm down, Byakuya_. He clasped his hands together under the table to give them something to do. _Stop shaking_. _You are the head of the Kuchiki Clan_, _Byakuya,_ he asserted._ You will have control over yourself._

Unohana opened her mouth to say something. "If you – "

_BZZD. BZZD. _

The sound came from Byakuya's jacket. Perplexed, he reached into its pocket and grabbed the vibrating device._ I thought I turned it off._ "I apologize," he told Unohana. The number flashing across the screen was familiar, and he frowned at it. _Why is he calling me? _He moved to thumb over the ignore button.

"Answer it," Unohana softly encouraged. "Please. I do not mind."

Byakuya weighed his options. _This will be quick. _He tapped the answer button and raised the phone to his ear. "What do you want?"

"Well damn, asshole – I can't even get a proper hello?" Zabi sounded the same as ever – loud, brash, uncaring for common decency. "You should be glad I'm wasting my precious, _youthful_ time on an old codger like you!"

_This is stupid. _"I'm busy," he stated as flat as possible. "Bye."

"W-wait! Hey! HEY!" Zabi exclaimed, panicked_._ "I called because I want to take you out for drinks tonight, old man!"

Byakuya froze. _Drinks? _

Zabi sighed. A clip of him defensively folding his arms across his chest played in Byakuya's imagination. "I feel bad about what happened that night, okay? Let me take you out for a good time – it's my treat and everything."

"I'm busy today." Byakuya only heard the beginnings of Zabi's protest before it was silenced by the 'End Call' button. He shut the phone off and stashed it away.

"Could that be a friend of yours?" Unohana was smiling at him again.

Byakuya snorted at the suggestion. "No."

Unohana laughed; it sounded angelic. "I see. Ah well" – she looked around the café, possibly for the flustered boy that'd served them– "It looks like I'll be taking my leave now."

_Already? _Byakuya watched her stand, confused."So soon?" _We've barely talked. _

"Unfortunately yes, I've got some business to attend to." The legs of her chair screeched across the floor when she pushed it in. "I will get you the medication you need, Byakuya. Until then – please take care of yourself."

_That was what Hisana said right before she died_."You as well, Unohana."

* * *

><p>Byakuya improved after his chat with the 4th Division's captain.<p>

Sleep came for him every night in the week that commenced. They were never 'long' or 'good' by any normal man's classification, but he cherished them all the same. They were precious jewels to him – the Gods' miracles. Each time he slipped under his bedcovers and closed his eyes, his heart soared with anticipation, and _each and_ _every time,_ blackness came.

He dreamed on occasion. The depictions were vividly brilliant and theatrical, blossoming behind his eyelids like the prettiest of weeds. He would stand glued to the happenings inside the constructed realms, unable – unwilling – to move. Even the sickest, most twisted memories of Hisana didn't deter him.

The shortest Byakuya slept was 30 minutes and the longest 5 hours, but he always – _always – _awoke refreshed. Mundane activities like walking stopped hurting. Blacking out in one place and waking up in another became infrequent occurrences. The medication Unohana'd promised him arrived in the mail one evening, and he was able to keep his food down from then on.

Hisana kept to his dreams for the most part. He tried not to think about her death date inching ever closer.

_I need to appreciate this_, he thought. _Before the backlash comes. _

With his newfound mental clarity – something akin to the mental state he'd had back before the psychotic break in his 19th summer – Byakuya threw himself wholeheartedly into Zabi's profile.

_He grew up on the streets of Inuzuri and left sometime in his teenage years. It is unknown where he traveled in that time. He reappeared on the scene in Inuzuri at the age of 22. The report shows he transported for many groups back then, but after his first job with the Espada, all of them dropped off his radar. _

_He started renting a studio apartment in Misutohābā's west district two years ago. His monthly payments are in cash. He is acquaintances with Madarame Ikkaku and Ayasegawa Yumichika of the Zaraki Group. It can be assumed they met when he did a number of transports for the organization during the start of his career. _

_He doesn't like working with yakuza, but has no opinion on the Espada. He is loyal to them. _

He tried not to get too frustrated by the lack of progress. _Even well rested I can't come to a solid conclusion. _

"So he's loyal to the Espada," he said into the air one night when his eyes were straining and stinging for a break. He leaned back in his chair and closed them. "That was something we'd already discerned. Perhaps he likes Aizen's ideals – "

'_I'm just a transporter. That's all I aspire to be.' _

Byakuya scowled.

'_I won't let you drag me any deeper than I already am.'_

"…doubtful," he muttered, exhaling through his nose. "He doesn't like being in the business. He doesn't want to be part of a group." Byakuya's wrists rubbed together. "He's not looking for power."

_And he's not looking for money_, he added after a thought. _He lives in a studio apartment. He could be saving it all – I'm sure he's being paid generously for his skills – but really, he doesn't seem mature enough to do that. _Byakuya smirked a little.

"I need to find out why he is so faithful to the Espada," he announced matter-of-factly. "Once I know that, everything will make sense."

* * *

><p>Byakuya called Zabi that night.<p>

"I want to go out for drinks," he told him before the other man could say anything, "Right now."

"You've got to be kidding me." Zabi's voice was sleep-raw and layered in a blanket of annoyance. "You've _got_ to be fuckin' kidding me, old man."

_Did I wake him up? _"I'm not kidding. I want to go out."

"Ohhh," Zabi hissed, "So I take it you're not _busy_ this time?"

"Obviously not," he deadpanned. "I want to go out for a drink, and I want you to come with me."

Zabi scoffed. "And if I don't?" he challenged.

Byakuya hummed."I might let you fuck me if you get me drunk enough."

"You're – that's not hot at _all_, you know that right? I don't want to fuck you when you're shitfaced."

_How very noble of you. "_Well?" he pressed, waiting.

"You're a bastard."

The corners of Byakuya's lips quirked upwards.

"…I hate you," Zabi groused. He exhaled his defeat bitterly. "Wipe that goddamn smirk off your face. Here's the address – I'll shank you if you're late."


	8. Chapter 705

**A/N: **Eep, 3k+ words! Which is nothing really, but still…and le gasp, no reference notes for this one – just a shit ton of bolded, italicized text and flashbacks. This will be a fun (sarcasm) chapter to edit when I'm finished with the fanfic.

**Chapter Seven ½ **

"_**God, it fucking **_**reeks**_** in here." **_

_**Renji wants to say it's not noticeable – that everything smells like white and he can't see or feel a damn thing – but that would be a lie, and he isn't strong enough for those yet. **_

"_**Did one of these fuckheads shit themselves? Goddamn!" **_

_**Shit themselves? Renji doesn't know anything about that. His clothes are vomit-soaked and piss is drying on his thighs – he knows that combination is hard to trump. Puke gets worse the longer it sits and so does urine, but the blood, brain bits, and shit will probably come in when he gets more used to the sour sick burning his nose hairs.**_

"_**This place is a hell hole." **_

_**He thinks the accuracy of that statement is amusing, so it's a shame that he can't smile. **_

"_**Hey" – a foot crashes into his ribs – "cuntface, are you dead or something? We're not done here, bitch." **_

_**The kick pushes him off his stomach and onto his back in one horrifically painful burst. Renji finds a groan – something that scrapes on his throat like sandpaper – inside him a few second after it happens, when all the pain suddenly became much, much worse than it ever has before. **_

_**Something snaps – a spinning realm of colors and sounds explodes. The pain is gone. **_

"… _**sh…ld leave h…im," a cold, tone-less voice that Renji hasn't heard before says. It comes popping into his fantasy land like bold, neon colors, but he can't hold onto all of it. "L...im deal…the repercussions…actions…ssshe…n die…slow…eth." **_

_**Renji couldn't have understood if he tried, so he doesn't. Instead he watches the world swirl around him from the eye of his own personal hurricane, where it isn't hot or dry or wet or cold. Nothing feels like anything. Numbness is numb **__**– like it should be**__**.**_

_**Scents are empty. Colors are vibrant and dull and everything in the middle. The sounds aren't there to make sense. **_

_**He isn't looking for an explanation. He doesn't want one. **_

_**He doesn't **_**need **_**one.**_

"_**Renji." **_

_**Something hard hits his face and his neck goes snapping to one side. Vomit is the first thing that comes to him but he can smell the shit now too, and maybe a little bit of the blood. He doesn't need his vision – still dark and disjointed – to know that he's back in the hell hole. **_

"_**Renji." **_

_**He sees her. **_

_**Her legs are twisted in awkward, impossible positions. There are fresh burns that are white and red and brown, and cuts puckering on her face. Blood-and-grime handprints, he decides, look ugly on bare, sliced open tits. **_

_**He's gasping out her name like the pathetic piece of trash he's never wanted to be without thinking. "Rukia – Rukia – !" **_

"_**Renji," she whispers. Half her teeth are broken in, and it's inescapably repulsive. He can't bring himself to look away, even if seeing her like this makes him want to die. "Renji, you – "**_

"_**Y'know, I lied about the three bullets thing, pup." The man with the wild eyes and blue hair – the one who saved him, the one who gave him the gun and made him kill those three monsters – puts his paw on Renji's shoulder and shakes him fatherly-like. "There's actually one more," he laughs. **_

_**Renji's doesn't understand, but the man does. He has the craziest smile on his face. **_

"_**For you to, y'know – put her outta' her misery." **_

_No._

The dream was gone in an instant.

He was aware of everything around him – how tightly he was clenching his pillow, how heavy and warm his blankets felt, the brightness of his room, the time on his clock – and the crispness would've been appreciated had his mind not still been reviewing the gruesome nightmare.

_Rukia. _He didn't dare say her name out loud. The memories of her – of his time with her – were bright in his mind now in a way he wished they weren't. He couldn't – he wouldn't – relive her again, not after everything that'd happened.

Not after the way he – she –

Renji stuffed his pillowed into his mouth and screamed. Screamed until his lungs burned and then ignored that and screamed some more. His throat went raw and his face turned red with the exertion.

When the indescribable emotions left him and his life felt like his own again, he stopped. He was breathing hard and fast, wanting Vicodin for his nose. He cursed mentally when he remembered that he'd dumped it all down the drain a week before.

_Why the fuck did I do that? _If he remembered correctly – _I don't need that bastard to get wasted_ – it'd been because Sen had declined his honest attempt at reconciliation, and Yumichika had laughed at the story when he called him over for the night. He'd flushed the pills to spite them both._ I'm such a fuckin' dumbass. _

Renji considered going back to sleep. The clock on his nightstand read that it was mid-morning, just approaching 8AM. Renji usually slept well into noon. _Doesn't help any that this bed feels like a high-class whore coaxing me back into her arms. _His dick twitched between his legs at the thought of such a woman.

"Not now, little man," he chuckled, giving it a small tug. "Not now."

Willing or not, he fell asleep a few minutes later.

* * *

><p>"<em><strong>Jeez, it's so damn muggy this time of year. Feels like I'm walking in water." <strong>_

_**In Inuzuri, it didn't rain. **_

"_**What the hell are you doing down there? Are you homeless or something?" **_

_**Newcomers – generally people deemed less-than-fit for society by the Central 46 – complained about that the most. 'This place is drier than a fucking dustbowl' they'd say, as if no one else had figured it out yet. 'How is anyone supposed to live here?' **_

"…_**You look new here. What's your name?" **_

_**It always got a good laugh out of everyone, that line of questioning. Hopeless men who couldn't grasp that salvation wasn't coming for them and that death was imminent were a funny bunch to listen to. Real comedians didn't come to 78**__**th**__**, but foreigners did the service well-enough without trying. **_

"'_**You sick or something? C'mon, I'm trying to talk to you." **_

_**How Inuzuri ever got kind souls was a mystery, but sometimes they were in the crowd. 'Ain't no livin' in 78**__**th**__**,' they'd explain to the desperate inquierers. 'Only survivin'.' **_

"_**My name's Rukia. Where are you from? Your skin's so tan." **_

_**There wasn't any truth truer than that one. Inuzuri was hell – a city that sat on a haven't-seen-a-drop-of-rain-in-four-decades sheet of mud, surrounded on all sides by miles of towering sand dunes, could be nothing less. **_

_**In the 78**__**th**__** District, the sun burnt your back in negative degree weather the same way it did in the hundreds. Your feet callused because you couldn't afford food much less footware, and the wind whipped sand into your cuts while you slept. Clean water came when you cleaved off an arm and a leg, but no amount of money would afford you food with actual nutrition. **_

_**You died if you wanted to or not, watching the wispy little things in the sky that were too high up to imagine. **_

"_**Look, I'm trying to help. Grab my hand. I'll take you back to my place." **_

_**Eucalyptus.**_

_**That plant was about the only thing that grew in Inuzuri. The leaves were used in tea that only government personnel could afford, but the plant itself was inedible – so useless, basically. **_

"_**Goddamit, I'm trying to help you, dumbass. Grab my hand!" **_

_**Eucalyptus. **_

_**It smelled nice. Better than the sand that Inuzuri usually smelled like – better than the open sewers and parched corpses Renji sometimes found himself around. **_

"_**You're…are you dead?" **_

_**Eucalyptus. **_

_**Renji reluctantly opens his eyes.**_

_**There's a pale, wet hand outstretched in front of him in a way that makes it seem like it wants to be held.**_

_**Renji blinks, and slowly looks up. **_

_**His heart seizes. **_

"_**Oh good."**_

_**This person is...**_

"_**I guess you're not dead after all, eh?" **_

_**Is…**_

"_**Loser." **_

…**she's beautiful**_**.**_

_Wake up. _

Renji blinked.

The clock turned a blue number at him.

3:34.

Crippling depression tied him to his bed and halted him from kicking off the hot bedcovers tangled at his feet.

3:37.

The impossible weight lifted, and he sat up.

His hands were shaking beyond his control, so he stared at them until they stopped.

3:38.

He tried to rise.

The floor greeted him.

_Damn. _

There was a surprising amount of dust collected under his bed.

3:40.

He closed his eyes and ignored the hot tears that streamed down his cheeks.

_Damn…_

…_damn._

* * *

><p><em>I need a drink<em>.

It was questionable at best, the bar he found. Located in the shittiest part of town that Misutohābā had to offer – the south-east side, leading into the super outlying districts – it appeared ripe and ready for a cave-in. _Man, that foundation's probably been there since the formation of Rukongai_, Renji thought, noting how half the building was slanted heavily into the ground in a way it clearly shouldn't've been. There were no windows on the first floor but the ones on the second and third were either boarded up or broken in, so Renji assumed that was a positive coincidence.

The bar didn't advertise itself. There were no signs in sight – just a solitary, grey metal door. If Renji hadn't been so familiar with the combined scent of cigarette smoke, sake, and crummy old men, he'd've walked right past it.

_Luckily I've spent my whole life around degenerates. I can't sense them a mile off. _

Renji sucked in a breath through his cigarette and gazed at the entrance. _These cunts'll be asking for a fight the second they see me, _he thought, _b__ut that's __fine by me__. _

Renji smushed his cigarette into the sidewalk and stepped into the bar. The inside was – unsurprisingly – dusty and damp from the rain. It welcomed Renji with a dense odor of must and health code violations. He stood rooted at the doorway with eyes trying their damndest to adjust to the new setting, since more than half the bar's lights were shot and the remaining few flickered every ten-or-so seconds.

_This place is a real shithole if I ever saw one. _

As anticipated, the patrons glared long, hard looks at Renji upon entrance. They sat angry-in-the-face and hunched-over in their stools with tense shoulders and gritted teeth, looking prepared and willing to rip Renji a new one if he was so inclined to indulge them. Renji met all their eyes fiercely. _Fuckin' washed-out wannabe bitches_. _Just fuckin' try it, see what happens. _

After a solid half-minute, the men reluctantly turned their heads – _yeah, that's what I thought – _and returned to grumbling in hushed, secretive tones to each other. Renji relaxed – _tried to, at least_ – and grabbed a seat at the bar. The light straight above him sputtered as he sat down. _Fucking seriously? _

"Wha' d'ya' wan'?"

Renji looked up sharply at the bartender, taken aback by the accent. The man standing behind the counter looked average to him – his voice didn't sound mean or nice – sporting hard, beady eyes and wearing a red bandana around his bald head. His physique was thick like a bear's and his skin held a deep shade of brown that could only be acquired in one place Renji knew of. _Shit, no way. _Intricate, openly displayed tattoos crawled down his bulging arms and up his veiny neck, but Renji suspected the majority of them were hidden beneath his clothing.

"Orion," Renji replied, taking out another cigarette. _This cocksucker's definitely with the Inuzuri Group. _

" 'Ere," the man grunted a short while later, placing his glass down on the counter.

Renji puffed his cigarette and grabbed it. _'Least this shithole knows how to keep beer cold._ "Thanks."

Time and beer flew by fast after that. He'd only come to the dive bar for one sole, single glass, but as the hour stretched on he realized the blatant stupidity – and what should've been palpable improbability – of that initial intention. One glass morphed into two, then five, and on number eight the buzz hit him. _I'm probably drinking these too fast_, he mused, then chugged the last third of his drink and ordered another.

"You trynna' forget somethin', kid?" the bartended asked when he handed Renji his drink.

"Nope," Renji replied smoothly. "Just wanna' get drunk, old man." _Kind of already there, really. _

The man crossed his arms and leaned against the counter. "Tha' so, kid?"

"Not a kid," Renji muttered. He glanced around the bar. It was loud now, louder than it had been when he'd first come in. The evening permitted freer flowing alcohol for more people – Renji included – and none of them were too good to reject it. They were a rowdy, vulgar bunch when liquor was swooshing around in their fat bellies. Renji turned back to the bartender, who was watching him critically.

_The fuck is your deal, man? _"Don't you have people to serve?"

The bartender shrugged. "Nah, no' really."

_Oh fuck you. _Renji pushed his empty glass onto the bar. "This place is a shithole," he sneered, hoping it would get a reaction. "Fucking sucks."

It didn't. "Can' argue with ya' there, kid." He grabbed the glass. "'Nother?"

Renji slammed his fists on the table. "Fuck nah, asshole," he slurred. Standing was hard but doable, though it made everything turn black around him. He pointed his finger at where he thought the man was. "Go back to Inuzuri" – he hiccupped – "fuckface," he spat. The room returned in splotches, then all at once.

The bartender laughed at him.

_He's fucking laughing at me!_"'The fuck," he demanded, "are you laughing ab – "

"You're a dumbfuck piece o' shit, kid."

The room went silent.

_What the fuck – _

"Got me sad," the bartender continued, staring at Renji with pitying eyes, "jus' lookin' at ya'."

A glass broke, and then blackness.

* * *

><p><em><strong>He finds her at the balcony. <strong>_

"_**Finally wake up, did you?" **_

_**She's leaning over the railing with her back to him, smoking a cigarette. The menthol can't cover up the eucalyptus. **_

"_**You were out for two days, asshole." **_

_**Her head's tilted towards the sky. Renji doesn't know what she's looking at – he's only ever seen cloud cover like this in the upper mid-districts, which is where they are. He's been out of Inuzuri for three years and still thinks it strange. **_

"_**I'm glad you're okay," she tells him. "You really had me worried." **_

_**Renji bites the inside of his cheek. He doesn't want to speak but knows he's going to have to eventually. **_

"_**I'm sorry," he says. "I'm – I'm…sorry." **_

_**She shakes her head. "Don't be, loser." **_

_**Renji wishes he could see her face, just so he can know if she's really as unbothered by his weakness as she's making it sound. He slides the screen door open more and comes out to stand next to her. There's a wide breadth between them because he doesn't want to impose on her personal space. **_

"_**Why did you help me?" he asks. **_

_**She shrugs. **_

_**Renji grips the railing. "Why did you help me?" The longer she refuses to look at him, the angrier he gets. He's always had a quick temper. "Why did you – "**_

_**She flicks her eyes at him, and the words die in his throat. **_

"_**Because you're weak."**_

_**She looks away – back at the sky. **_

"_**I helped you because you're weak."**_

_**It starts to drizzle. **_

"_**I'm going inside," she says. Her back's to him again and she's walking away. "I'll have breakfast ready tomorrow morning whenever you wake up. Night." She shuts the screen door behind her. **_

_**A downpour starts a few minutes after she leaves.**_

_**It reminds Renji's that he's not in Inuzuri anymore, so he stays in it.**_

* * *

><p><em>Wow, that's a fuckton of blood. <em>

Renji couldn't tell where it was all coming from. His right arm was lying in a puddle of the thick substance, still feeling warm on his skin and smelling strongly of iron. Both his hands were stained but his left one was brownish and stiff, and the other red-tinged and moist. There were a series of cuts _–_ all of them still profusely oozing out black-ish liquid –on the latter hand to explain this, but none of them were registering as painful.

His hand was glimmering. _That's weird…_ Renji lifted it from the blood pool and into the light where he could examine it better. Splinters of glass slivered in and out of the skin, many of them protruding from the deep slices.

_Oh man..._

Renji's shoulder started to ache _– _lowering his arm back into the blood made it stop. _So sticky._

A cool, humid breeze brushed along the back of his head and he shivered.

_Where the fuck am I? _

If the shit-lighting coming off the orangey streetlight from a block away wasn't playing tricks on him, there was a trail of blood leading up to where he was laying on the ground. Two whole teeth were just four feet away from him, next to a pile of used needles and crumpled up paper. Renji craned his neck – _fuckfuckfuck, hurts – hurts! – _behind him for a look. Two small, badly-kept dumpsters leaned on a wall too high to climb.

Renji threw his head back and groaned. "Fuck." There wasn't a street name in sight. His best guess was that he was still in south-east Misutohābā, most likely a couple streets away from the dive bar he'd blacked out at.

_Blacked out? I got in a fight, dammit. __The last thing I remember was glass breaking. _The shards in his hand glinted. He stared at them, dumbfounded. _Was that...me? _

Everything attached to him suddenly started to hurt. The slashes on his hands, some patch on the base of his skull, his legs _– _

"Ah fuck," he croaked. "How the fuck am I going to get home like this?"

His head was pounding. "I can't fuckin' walk. I don't know where the fuck I am. I'm fucking bleeding buckets _–"_

He froze. Then _–_

"Fuck! Izuru!"

Renji jammed his good hand into his back pocket_. Please be there, please be there – holy fuck! _His fingers wrapped around the thin outlining of his phone. He awkwardly took it out, nearly dropping it on the pavement in the course of doing so. _How did they _not _take this?_ It didn't matter. He jammed a string numbers into the screen and pressed the device to his ear.

_Answer it,please answer it. _

It rang twice.

"What's up?" Izuru drawled.

"Izuru!" Renji shouted. "Holy fuck man. Holy fucking fuck."

"Uh..."

_Goddamit Renji, calm the fuck down. _"Izuru, you have to come help me."

"What's wrong?" Izuru asked. "Are you okay?"

"I don't know where I am – some alleyway in the south-east side of Misutohābā." He gulped. "My hand's sliced up bad and I can't walk on my own."

"What the hell are you calling me for?" Izuru's voice raised. "You fucking dumbass – call an ambulance!"

Renji shook his head. _No way_. "Please Izuru. I got in a stupid bar fight _– _I'm such a fucking idiot. I know you can patch me up." He hesitated. "...I'm not going to call an ambulance."

"You're a retard, Renji."

The redhead bit his lip. Things were going black again. "Please –"

"Fine, _fine!_" Izuru huffed. "I'll come find…ou…ive…hour…"

_Fuck_. Renji shut his eyes. "Yeah," he said. _Hour...you'll come find me. That's what you said. _"Yeah."

The phone slid out of his hand.

"Yeah."

Warm blackness consumed him.

"Yeah."


End file.
